


A Casual Dalliance

by geekyjez



Series: Isii Lavellan (Non-Canon AUs) [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arlathan, F/M, Smut, So much smut, the dread wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4276929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate take on <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3223286/chapters/7016759">Facing the Wolf</a>. Isii remains in Arlathan as the Dread Wolf's honored guest with promises that he will help her find a way back home. In the meantime, however, he's very keen to show her the type of hospitality he can offer such a beautiful visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Casual Dalliance

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Facing the Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3223286) by [geekyjez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekyjez/pseuds/geekyjez). 



> I was prompted to write some young Fen'Harel and Isii smut. Something quite smutty. "Dayum" levels of smut, to be exact. This is the result.

Isii sighed, closing her eyes as the servant watched her warily. “I will not have you dressing me,” she said patiently before fixing her gaze on the woman once more. “Just set the clothing on the bed.”

The elf looked uncertain. “Lord Fen’Harel said I was to attend to your needs.”

“And you have,” she said quickly. She gestured to the bed with a nod and the woman obeyed, laying out the bundle she carried.

“He wanted me to bring you to his quarters as soon as you are ready.” It wasn’t the first time Fen’Harel had summoned her to his bedroom. Despite the suggestive location, they’d been little more than social visits. The room was spacious and likely one of the only truly private spaces he had within his temple.

“I will get myself there,” Isii replied. “You can go.”

The woman looked confused, hesitating as she wrung her hands. Isii’s brow furrowed. She supposed it made sense for a servant to question disregarding the orders of a god. Who was she to contradict him? She wasn’t the Inquisitor, nor the Herald. Andraste’s birth was thousands of years away for all she knew. Here, Isii was little more than the Dread Wolf’s kept curiosity, a stranger whose presence his servants had adjusted to over the passing weeks and yet knew nothing of. Even so, the woman bowed her head and left, scurrying out of the room.

Isii inspected the clothing that had been selected for her. A sleeveless robe of red silk, impossibly smooth to the touch, with flourishes of gold thread trailing down along the plunging neckline. It was almost entirely backless, save for a few strategically-placed woven straps that would help hold the shoulders in place. There were various adornments bundled with the cloth – bracelets, necklaces, a cuff for her ear and more, some of which she could not properly identify.

Fen’Harel certainly spared no expense in his attempts to pamper her.

The Dread Wolf had been a gracious enough host since the portal spat her out in his home. Discovering her lover’s identity was hard to accept, but she had no time to truly react to this news- not when she found herself trapped and completely at the mercy of Fen’Harel centuries before he would ever be Solas. He promised he would help her by offering sanctuary in his temple until he could find a way to send her home. So far, he had been nothing but kind. He gave her their language with a simple spell, provided a lavish room for her to sleep in and made certain his servants tended to her every need. He did nothing to hide his attraction to her, but he’d done nothing untoward. The closest he came were gestures like this one, providing her with finery that was clearly meant as a way to dress her in a fashion he found alluring.

It was odd and yet strangely intriguing to see what he found enticing. Solas rarely if ever discussed such things.

She dressed herself quickly, briefly tending to her hair in the room’s mirror. Even as she pinned up the thick white waves, she could not help but inspect her face, her eyes running over the missing lines of her vallaslin. Fen’Harel had told her what those marks meant here, explained why they had to be removed. Until he could figure out a way to send her home, she could not bear the appearance of one of June’s slaves. Word would spread, questions would be raised. Even if she never set foot outside of his temple, he could not trust his servants or priests to keep their mouths shut indefinitely. He assured her it was for her own protection. He did not want to run the risk of June trying to take her away from him, as would be his right as long as she remained marked as his property.

She padded out of the room quietly, forgoing the assortment of jewels as she followed the now-familiar path to his quarters. She found him lounging against a large, heavily-cushioned divan, his eyes scanning lazily across the pages of a book. She felt a brief sense of familiarity with the scene. It was not entirely unlike the times she found Solas sitting on the couch in the rotunda, studying some tome from the library above. Yet her lover’s face wasn’t framed by strands of thick, dark hair that fell from their loose binding; his fingers didn’t trace idly over the stubble that ran along the lower half of his scalp. Where Solas’s posture was almost always rigid, Fen’Harel was languid, fluid, stretched out as if he truly did not possess a single care. He was dressed in finery that would have looked entirely out of place on the man she knew – dark robes of grey and green, loose in their belting, leaving his chest partially exposed.

It was almost comical to try to picture Solas in his place. She did note with a certain level of amusement, however, that his preference for tight breeches appeared to be fairly consistent.

His eyes lifted quickly, his face brightening as he slipped the book closed. “I was wondering what was keeping you,” he said smoothly. “I am not used to being kept waiting.”

“And yet shockingly you seem to have survived the ordeal,” Isii said dryly, her hands slipping onto her hips.

He chuckled. “I suppose so,” he murmured. His eyes took their time, raking over her form. He did nothing to hide his pleasure as the corner of his lips lifted and Isii could feel a steady heat spreading under her skin.

“I would have been here sooner, but I was delayed by having to convince your servant to leave me alone.”

“Oh? Was her work unsatisfactory?”

“More like unnecessary,” Isii said firmly. “I am fully capable of dressing myself, thank you.”

He grinned, his brow arching. “As I can see. My apologies for the annoyance, then. It is customary for the nobles of Arlathan to have an attendant see to their appearance.”

“I’m not exactly a noblewoman.”

His eyes bore a familiar look of intrigue as he studied her. “No, you aren’t, are you?”

“What’s this about, then?” she asked.

“I thought you might like to share a drink with me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Just a drink?”

A slow smirk pulled at his lips. “Why? Did you have something else in mind?” Isii could feel her cheeks growing hot but she said nothing. As much as their separation had left her aching for Solas, she had to remind herself that the man in front of her was not him.

Not yet, anyway.

“I simply wish to share some of the luxuries of Elvhenan with my honored guest,” he continued, rising from his seat. Despite his tone, she could not help but feel like he was up to something. The Dread Wolf’s smile merely deepened as a skeptical look cast over her features. “Come now,” he cooed, approaching a side table that held a carafe and two empty glasses. “I can offer many extravagances that few have had the pleasure of indulging in. Is it so wrong of me to want to expand your experiences in such a fashion?”

“It is if you’re trying to wheedle me into something.”

He laughed, pouring their drinks. “I can only wonder what I’ve done to make you so suspicious of me.” She gave him an unimpressed look. “Well, beyond the deception, of course,” he said with a brush of his hand. “But you can hardly blame me for that. I have yet to do it.” He seemed pleased with himself as he brought one of the glasses to his lips, smirking as he took a sip. He set it down by the divan, approaching slowly before offering her the other. She eyed it warily.

“Have you made any progress on getting me home?”

“I’m working on it,” he said dismissively.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re certain you’re not delaying on purpose?”

“Now why would I do a thing like that?” he asked, though nothing in his expression matched the innocence of his tone. “You really should learn to trust me, little rabbit.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said firmly. His brow shifted in mild confusion. “It’s a slur in my time. Something to call elves to reduce them to little more than frightened animals.”

“Ah,” he muttered, looking fairly baffled. It was clear such a thing had never occurred to him. “It was meant only as an endearment, ina’lan’ehnathe,” he said, reaching forward to cup her ear between his fingers, stroking his thumb along its length. “It would be wrong to have a creature as fierce as you compared to someone’s prey.” She couldn’t deny that his touch made her heart race, the closeness of his body making it suddenly difficult to breathe steadily. She tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach. He let his fingers linger a moment too long, though by the look on his face he was fully aware of it. He let his hand drop and gestured again with the drink. “Take it.”

Isii obeyed, cupping the glass in her hand as she took a cautious sip. Even though the liquid was cool to the touch, warmth suddenly spread across her lips and tongue. Her mouth flooded with a pleasant tingling sensation, slipping slowly down her throat and blooming in her chest. She shivered slightly. There was magic in the drink. She couldn’t understand precisely how, but she could feel it all the same. It was like something tickling the mana within her, drawing it up until it made her skin thrum with energy. She had a vague memory of Solas telling her about this once – a drink that tasted like honeyed cream that lit the body’s senses. It was something he claimed he experienced in the Fade.

Fen’Harel made his way back to the divan, stretching out, taking up his glass once more. “I find you rather fascinating, pet,” he observed quietly, slowly indulging in another long swig. “You appear to know so much about me and yet I hardly know anything about you. I would see that fixed.” He patted the space next to him. “Come. Sit.”

She approached slowly, crawling forward to seat herself beside him, well aware of his eyes on her as she moved. He did nothing to hide the fact that his interests were piqued. It was a strangely refreshing change compared to his older self.

“What do you want to know?” she asked, bringing the drink to her lips again. That chilling heat spread through her once more. It was like being dipped in a warm bath, though the sensation started from within and moved outward in small shivers of pleasure. She could easily see its appeal.

“How long have you and Solas been lovers?” the Dread Wolf asked casually.

The question caught her by surprise and she struggled not to sputter on her drink. He smiled, chuckling as he set his glass aside. “What makes you think we are?” she asked quickly.

“Don’t be coy with me, Isii,” he purred, leaning closer, lifting her chin with his fingertips. She could feel the tingling from the drink on her skin, his touch making her breath catch even from something so small. “We both know I am more to you than simply your trusted companion,” he said, studying her face. “You aren’t nearly as effective at hiding it as you think you are.”

She was silent for a moment and when she spoke, the words sounded far less convincing than she’d hoped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The way your eyes focus on me… the way your breaths hitch whenever I touch you…” His fingers trailed down her throat and it took all of her willpower not to moan as another soft shiver rippled through her. “I can practically hear your heart racing whenever I draw near. Just as it is doing now, if I’m not mistaken.” He grinned. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” Isii said nothing, her mind racing. She thought she’d done a better job of concealing the effect his presence had on her. Her desire for Solas didn’t disappear simply because they were separated. Yet, at the same time, they weren’t. He was there in front of her. The same eyes, the same face, the same voice that made her melt. He was less mature, less reserved, but he was still the same man. She could not help but feel that same attraction.

He studied her features in her silence. “Solas _is_ your lover, is he not?” he asked smoothly. “Either that or you want him to be.”

“He is,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, brushing his thumb over her lip. “Then so am I.”

His fingers curled around the curve of her jaw, holding her in place as he closed the distance between them. The press of his lips was electric, the sensation so intense, so heightened by the drink that she could feel it pulsing through her whole body. His kiss was gentle at first but quickly grew into something hungry, unrestrained, intense in a way she rarely saw from Solas. Her glass nearly slipped from her hand as he angled her head back, his tongue seeking entrance into her mouth.

She pulled away, eyes closed, shaking her head. “I… We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” His breath was hot on her neck as he nipped at her throat. “It’s not as if you’re being unfaithful…” She whimpered as he sucked on her pulse point, his fingers loosening the pins from her hair. “Do you really think I would be jealous of myself?”

“Perhaps.”

He let out a low, rolling laugh that seemed to slip down her spine. “I’ll get over it.” Her breathing quickened as his lips slowly explored her collarbone. “You told me before that he has never taken you. Is that true? Have you never been to my bed?”

“I… No. We’ve never…” Her words fled as his tongue traced the length of her throat, her gasp catching in a small whine. She wasn’t intoxicated. She knew that feeling well. Her mind was clear but the drink made everything feel so _indescribably_ _good_.

He hummed low in her ear as he massaged it with his lips, her eyes fluttering closed. “I have such a hard time believing that, Isii,” he whispered. “Not that I wish to declare you a liar, but I would have wanted to be inside of you the very first moment you showed an interest. I’ve already spent more than one night imagining how it would feel to dip my fingers between your thighs and find you wet for me.”

The words left her breathless, spoken in a low, hungry growl. This was too much. Too fast. She felt like she couldn’t think straight. She wanted him. She wanted him desperately, just as she’d wanted Solas for months before she ever went back in time. The way his touch drew on the heady buzzing in her skin felt far too good to pass up on. Still – would he be angry with her when she returned to her proper time? Would he remember this moment and regret that she hadn’t turned him down? Would he have wanted their first time together to be with him as he was in the future? Though, technically, even if she’d already slept with Solas, his first time with her would inevitably be as his younger self…

And what if she could never make her way home? What if she was trapped here? What if he could remember each of these moments knowing he would never see her again? What would he want then? Would he have wanted to have her, at least once, no matter the circumstances?

Time travel made things so incredibly confusing.

He finished removing the pins that held up her hair, smoothing it as it draped across her shoulders. “Much better,” he murmured, his teeth grazing her lip. “I would have your hair loose. I cannot help but imagine how beautiful it would look falling across your features as you thrash and moan for me. Perhaps grasped between my fingers I slip into you? Would you like that, pet?”

“Gods-” Her quiet exclamation drew a chuckle from him. She could tell that he was enjoying shocking her. It seemed to be his goal.

“Do you feel that?” he asked, tracing the neckline of her bodice with his fingertips, nails raking as he teased the fabric open slightly. “That heat? That warm tremor in your skin? It’s spreading through your limbs now, is it not?” She nodded and he drew her into a long, slow kiss. “Finish your drink,” he whispered, cupping her jaw as he parted their lips, “and I will show you just how good it can feel.”

She knew this was her chance to say no. If she refused, if she put the glass down and walked away, he would stop. Perhaps he would pursue her another day, but for now it would be over. He watched her intently, waiting for her reply. Isii tentatively brought the drink to her lips, taking a steadying breath before draining the glass.

Fen’Harel’s smile deepened.

He slated his mouth over hers once more. The buzzing was dizzying under the press of his lips, his tongue gently lapping against her own. “You taste so sweet,” he groaned before kissing her again. He pushed her down, pulling on her hips to slide her closer to him and she gasped, shuddering as her skirts gathered along her thighs. He eased himself over her, his knee braced between her own as his fingers curled under her neckline, slowly dragging it open. The slide of the material against her skin felt glorious. She moaned her pleasure against his lips as he pushed the thin silk to either side of her breasts. Her skin felt incredibly hot, burning under his gaze as his eyes raked over the newly exposed flesh.

“You are gorgeous, aren’t you?” he asked, his fingers ghosting over her chest. “My little amber-skinned goddess.”

His smile was so broad, so pleased to have obtained this beautiful body he could play with. She understood what this was for him. She was a luxury he could consume just like the drink he had given her. She’d been that kind of lover before. She knew that feeling well. Seeing the heated look in his eyes as he stared down at her was almost enough to make her tremble in anticipation.

He cupped her in his hands, his thumbs circling her nipples. She pressed her lips together, trying to stifle a cry as he caressed her. “Don’t stop your voice,” he whispered, leaning down. “I would have you sing for me.”

She couldn’t be quiet even if she tried as he lowered his head, gliding his tongue across one of her breasts. She startled, her back arching as he circled it slowly, drawing the dark bud between his lips as it hardened. He suckled, teeth scraping, tongue swirling, tracing slow shapes as his fingers did the same on its opposite. She whined at the sudden loss of his heat and the sharp coolness of the air on dampened skin when he finally switched sides. His eyes were on her face the whole time, watching her intently, his satisfaction deepening with each shuddering breath.

The sensation was maddening. Every touch, every press of his lips made her body ripple with pleasure, made her desperate for more. She pulled her skirts up further, hitching her leg along his side. He took the invitation, gliding his hand along her outer thigh, settling on her hip but going no further. She groaned, shifting beneath him, trying to urge him to move where she desperately wanted to be touched. He lifted his lips from her skin, peering at her.

“So eager, ma haurasha.” he chided. He flattened his palm against her, a wicked grin peeling back his lips as she felt him begin to summon. For a brief moment, it was like the soothing prickling she associated with Solas’s healings but soon it poured into her like a flood. Magic curled over her like long slender fingers, caressing her, stroking her, pushing inside of her. Cloth was no barrier to its touch, her whole body bared to the sensation. It flicked against her insides, lapping at her skin, pulsing deep within her as it blossomed in her core. She gasped, her eyes wide. He laughed at her surprise, the sound rippling through a satisfied moan.

“I take it I’ve never touched you like this,” he whispered. She felt another pulse, another press and her eyes closed, her head falling back. His smile widened. “A shame. There can be so much satisfaction in making you come undone with little more than a brush of my hand against your skin.” She struggled for words but could not shape them, could barely breathe as the pulse found a rhythm, her whole body overtaken, overwhelmed. “We could be in a crowded room; I could have you on my throne with a thousand of my followers gazing up at you, and none would know it as you felt me push inside of you.” She dug her heels into the cushions below her, rolling her hips as if she could find some friction against his touch but there was little she could do but take what he gave.

“Fen… Fen’Harel…”

“My name suits your lips so perfectly,” he purred, his fingers teasing along her inner thigh. He brushed his knuckle lightly against her smallclothes and she tensed, whimpering in a voice that almost didn’t sound like her own. She gripped his robes, tugging him down roughly to meet her kiss and he slipped her smalls aside, teasing slender fingers over her folds. He pushed into her slowly, muffling a heavy, lustful moan against her lips. She shuddered, crying out as she broke for air, eyes closing once more. Fingers curled, taking their time as they glided over sensitive flesh and she lost herself to it. There was nothing but his hand, nothing but his teeth tightening against her throat, nothing but this all-encompassing pleasure. The drink enhanced it but ultimately it was him, the pressure and speed of his touch, the steady pace of his fingers pumping in and out. She was close. She could feel it building in her core, that tight feeling that made her hips tremble. Only it was different, somehow. Her body felt saturated, overflowing with energy, magic stirring through her veins. The rush was indescribable. She could feel sparks igniting against her skin, small bursts of lightning that sent a tremor through her. She’d never felt this, it had never happened like this, but she couldn’t try to make sense of it now, not as the sensation lifted her higher, not as her back arched, struggling for breath, her fists tightening against his robes. He growled in her ear, his fingers moving faster as he chased after her release.

She did not come gently. Orgasm didn’t wash over her like a soft caress. It tore through her, convulsive and raw, completely untamed as she lost herself within it. He lifted himself up enough to look down at her through hungry eyes. He looked as if he would devour her but instead he simply watched, stroking her through her climax, stretching out each wave until she felt as though she’d drown in it.

Slowly the roaring in her faded. She panted, eyes half-open as she looked up at him. “Oh I will have _so_ much fun with you, ma da’u’lea.”

“What was that?” she gasped, shivering as he slowly eased his fingers out of her. “The lightning… I’ve never…”

“That was all you,” he purred, bringing his hand to his lips. “I merely helped it along.” He sucked his fingers clean, his eyes on her as he let out a satisfied hum. “Better than the finest vintage,” he murmured. He eyed his abandoned glass for a moment, a sly grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Which reminds me…”

He shifted away from her, retrieving his half-finished drink. His look was mischievous and she peered at him, curious. He sipped the beverage slowly, holding it in his mouth for a time before swallowing. He wasted no time once he finished the drink, tugging her smalls down unceremoniously, angling her leg over his shoulder as he dipped his head. She didn’t have a chance to object, to plead for a moment to recover before he parted her slit with his tongue and suddenly her skin felt like it was on fire. She could feel that tingling on his tongue, his lips, searing into sensitive flesh with such an intensity that it drove the air from her lungs. She rose again so quickly, building to another climax faster than she had any right to, a testament to his skill. He lapped at her folds, teasing her clit with light, feathering kisses as she sank her fingers into his hair, gripping him tightly. She rocked against his mouth and he hummed, chuckling, amused perhaps by her enthusiasm. She honestly couldn’t care. She let her eyes close, head thrown back, her voice lifting as the trembling grew in her belly, spreading to her limbs, tightening, shivering. When she broke, it was ecstasy. All sense of time fled her, captured in a moment of pleasure that seemingly had no end.  She would have happily stayed under his tongue for hours, days, it didn’t matter as long as she could keep feeling like this.

Her cries eventually died down, her breaths slowing and he lifted himself from between her legs. He said nothing as he watched her, pushing up onto his knees. His hands went to his belt, taking his time as he worried it loose. Her limbs felt heavy, weak as she tried to catch her breath, her eyes drinking him in as he peeled his robes back from his shoulders. His body was lean, muscles taut, controlled, defined. While she had little to compare it to with Solas, his form was an undeniable reminder that he was a much younger man. She could see that he was hard, straining against his breeches and her curiosity tore at her. She’d spent months fantasizing about Solas, imagining what he might look like naked and she could not help but feel a flutter of anticipation. She wasn’t shy in her gaze. He saw exactly where her eyes lingered and he laughed.

He leaned down, gripping her arm. “Come here,” he growled, pulling her to her knees in front of him. His fingers curled at the nape of her neck, trapping her as his lips crashed into her own. She could taste herself on his tongue, a heady mix of her arousal and the sweetness of the honeyed drink. He made quick work of the belt at her waist, tearing at the straps that held up her bodice, pushing them roughly down her arms. His lips went to her throat, to her shoulder, biting, sucking as his hands guided the robes off of her hips, pooling at her knees. She let her head drop forward, burying her face against his skin as his hands traced the curve of her backside, palming her flesh, dragging her against him. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock through his breeches, his hips rolling to rub himself against her. She wrapped her arms around him, pressed her chest to his own, savored the heat of his skin, so lost in the moment that the words slipped past her lips without thought.

“Ar lath ma.”

She felt him pause, his mouth stilling. He pulled back, a curious look falling across his features as he studied her face, tracing his fingertips across her lips. “You truly do, don’t you?” His voice was quiet, not quite a whisper, a small sense of wonder in the sound. She nodded. Perhaps those words weren’t meant for him yet, but she was in love with the man he would become.

His expression was difficult to read and for a moment he wore a look of quiet contemplation that so resembled the man she knew. It was gone quickly, warming into that familiar hungry grin as he returned his mouth to her own. His grip on her tightened, his arm wrapping around her, lifting her up just enough to pull the robes free from her legs. She could feel him leaning forward, easing her back but she hummed an objection against his lips, splaying her hands across his chest. She pushed hard enough to tip over his balance, crawling forward until she could straddle his legs. He laughed as she began to tear at the closure of his breeches. His hands gripped her waist and she felt him trying to move her, to roll her onto her back but she resisted, lowering her weight against him.

“No,” she said quickly. “Stay down.”

He peered at her, amused. “Do you honestly think you can command me, pet?”

Isii’s eyes narrowed. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, giving it a sharp tug as he hissed. “I know for a fact that I can,” she growled before biting down on his lip. She felt him stiffen, startled. She realized he probably wasn’t used to anyone challenging him and in a strange way it made it all the more satisfying. Any hesitation on his part melted away quickly and soon he was holding her, caressing her as her free hand worked his breeches open. He let out a heated sigh as her fingers curled around his shaft, learning the feel of him. He seemed impossibly hard, so warm, so heavy in her hand and she began to lazily stroke him, tightening her grip. He snarled softly, his fingers sinking into her hair, his eyes closing as she pleasured him. Even though they’d never made love, she knew his body intimately. She knew the way he cursed when she traced the shell of his ear with her tongue, the spot on his neck that made him moan when she scraped it with her teeth. She traced familiar paths with her mouth, savoring each sharp breath, each ragged groan, satisfied by hearing him so surprised and pleasured in equal measure.

“Inside,” he demanded, tugging on her waist. “Now.”

“So eloquent,” she teased. “And you’re the one who says that I’m impatient.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “Or, at least, you will.” Even so, she pulled her body closer, straddling his lap. She pressed her forehead to his own, their breaths hitched as she guided his shaft, wetting him against her slit. She teased him into her slowly, whimpering, burying her face against his throat as he held her hips, coaxing her down. It had been so long since she’d felt anyone inside her. She winced, hissing as he stretched her, shuddering at the fullness as she took him to the hilt. “Is this what you wanted, Dread Wolf?” she purred, rolling her hips, smirking at the obscene sound that rumbled from his chest even as the movement made her quiver around him.

She fell into a rhythm, holding onto his shoulders, pushing him until he leaned back against the plush cushions. She used the extra leverage to free her hips, lifting herself each time she withdrew, pulling him almost entirely out of her before burying him again. His back arched, fingers digging into her thighs, teeth clenched in a grin both triumphant and in awe. “Oh you are skilled, aren’t you?” he groaned and she laughed, a bright and breathless sound, letting her head fall back. Her hair tickled her breasts as she rode him, her body feeling full and fluid with every movement. There was such sweet relief in this, in finally feeling him, in finally having him.

He pulled on her arms and she fell against his chest, his lips taking hers in short sprints of fevered kisses, broken by heavy gasping breaths as she continued to writhe above him. “If I could keep you,” he murmured, panting, “I would not let you leave my bed.” He pulled down on her hips, thrusting up roughly and she cried out, trembling. “I would take you for weeks at a time. Heal your flesh when it aches only to press into you again. And again. _And again._ ” His body punctuated his words and she matched his zeal, speeding up. She braced herself with one hand, the other seeking her clit. He groaned happily, urging her on as her muscles began to flutter around him, each tremor shared between them both. She rubbed, eyes closing, listening to their labored breaths.

“That’s it, Isii,” he hissed. “Finish yourself on me.”

“Vhenan…”

She felt his grip on her tighten, his breaths quickening. “Say it again.”

She could feel that madness returning, the roar of blood in her ears, that tight warmth shooting through her. She whimpered, crying out, bringing herself to the edge. “Vhenan! Vhenan’ara! Ma sa’lath! _Fuck! Ah!_ ” Her voice lifted and words left, all thought fleeing her. Fen’Harel’s breaths grew ragged, his hands desperate, grasping, tugging, his teeth bared, eyes closed, grunting and gasping with each thrust. She felt him casting but it was sporadic, uncontrolled, trembling. Even so, it pushed her into a scream, her nails raking against his chest, her head thrown back as he released inside of her, both of them lost to their delirium.  

She collapsed against him, her face pressed to his shoulder. For a time, neither moved, silent save for their need to catch their breath. Eventually his hands trailed along her back, tracing small circles along her spine that made her shiver. There was a tenderness to his touch that surprised her, but she said nothing. She merely closed her eyes, letting her body relax above his.

“I believe I’m going to miss you when I send you back.”

His voice was quiet. Almost wistful. She lifted her head, hair falling against his chest as she looked down at him. “But you will, won’t you?” she asked. “You’ll send me home?”

He stroked his fingers along the line of her jaw, the corner of his lips lifting sadly. “I don’t believe I have a choice. We are already facing the risk of a rather troubling paradox if you say, are we not? Even though my future may be irrevocably changed, the timeline from which you came still theoretically exists, even if you are absent from it. If you do not return, that world will progress without you.” His hand slipped into her own, stirring the anchor into life as he gazed at it. “If the circumstances are truly as dire as you say they are, I would not want to envision what might happen if you are not there to save them.”

“I know what happens,” she said grimly. “I’ve already seen it.” His head tilted, eyes narrowing curiously. “This isn’t my first encounter with time magic.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You live a very interesting life, pet.”

She grinned, brushing hair back from his face. “Given that being in love with the Dread Wolf _doesn’t_ top the list of strange circumstances I’ve had to deal with – then yes, I’d say that’s a fair assessment.” There was something strangely genuine in his smile and it made her cheeks feel warm.

She leaned down, placing a kiss against his chest. “Since I’m going to be here a bit longer anyway,” she said, shifting her hips slightly over him. “You do have an awfully nice looking bed over there. It would be a shame not to use it at least once.” She arched her eyebrow and he laughed, biting his lip.

“Oh I am _definitely_ going to miss you,” he growled, pulling her down into another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> References to the drink were first made in [Stay Like This](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3748969).
> 
> Translations:  
> Ina’lan’ehnathe - the physical embodiment of beauty  
> Ma haurasha – literally “my honey”. Honey is slang for sexual wetness. As an endearment, it means “someone who makes me wet/hard”.   
> ma da’u’lea – my little spark  
> vhenan’ara – my heart’s desire  
> ma sa’lath – my one/only love
> 
> Credit to Project Elvhen for some of the vocabulary.


End file.
